Love in Gotham
by Analee Kross
Summary: Tim is at 'work' late as usual, when an old friend shows up for a visit. There will be M material later in the story, so I am putting it now, so people don't get hooked who don't like M stories.


The shadows of Gotham City were unreal at night. Crime tended to be the  
local nightlife of a city enveloped with a dark history of thieves,  
gangs, and worst of all - metas.

In the darkest corners of Gotham there lurked beings as twisted inside  
as their outer appearance tended to be. Those with half a face, those  
turned into beasts, and even those who retain none of their humanity.  
They thrive on chaos, fear, and a burning desire for power and wealth.

The city, however, is also home to those who would fight these forces  
and risk their lives to protect those who cannot protect themselves.  
They are in the business of kicking villain ass.

And for young Tim Drake, business is good.

"OOF," exclaimed the man who had recently made a new friend in the brick  
wall behind him. "D-don't hurt me, man. I'll do whatever you want!"

The slim, shadowy figure let out a small chortle at this and drew closer  
to the thug.

"Maybe you shouldn't stay out so late, there are lots of things that go  
bump in the night..."

"I didn't do nothin'," the man choked out, "I was just tryin' to provide  
for my family!"

As someone who hears this so many times a week does, it produces more  
laughter in the figure cloaked in darkness. "Well, if you go around  
stealing young ladies' purses, how are they supposed to provide for  
themselves? Maybe she worked hard for that Coach purse. Hand over the  
bag without any problems and I might let you off easy."

"O-okay man, whatever you say. No problems from me!"

The figure neared closer to the mugger and was for a moment illuminated  
by the soft light of the moon. Red and black flashed into view  
momentarily and a hand reached out to retrieve the stolen purse.

If he'd known how his night would end up, the thief probably would have  
gladly given the purse back and apologized. Criminals in Gotham tend to  
be a little slower than average though, and this guy was no exception.  
Hidden behind the purse was a knife. As he moved forward to hand the  
item over, he lunged forward and made a quick stabbing motion toward the  
stranger's torso.

With the reflexes of those attuned to foiling super villains and  
gangsters, a quick snap of the hand knocked the knife to the concrete,  
landing with a sharp clang. "Bad move, but I can't say I'm surprised."

With a quick movement of feet, the caped figure moved toward the wall to  
his left and ran up a few feet, launching himself into the air toward  
the befuddled criminal. His hands move as quickly as his feet as Tim  
Drake's masked face came into view. Out snapped his retractable staff  
and in an instant it was both extended and the business side introduced  
itself to the face of a certain purse snatcher.

Robin wasted no time in finishing up with the thief, he began tying him  
up to leave for the police, who received an anonymous phone call two  
minutes prior. It was very routine business for the young vigilante, and  
probably wouldn't have been the last round up of the night - but  
sometimes routine can lull one's senses into false safety. Which is why  
Tim didn't see the dark figure slowly creeping up behind him.

A hand made it's way to Tim's midsection and he quickly attempted a  
backward sweep to momentarily neutralize the person behind him. With a  
dull thud, pain shot up his leg and with a grunt of pain he realized  
that his move may have been a slight mistake.

"Don't you know it's not polite to hit a lady, Robin?"

With his leg throbbing, Tim managed to look up and he had a bit of a  
shock when he took in the curvy blonde that stood before him.  
"Kara," he said, "been awhile."

"I'm sorry, I forgot how easily I can sneak up on even those with the  
best of reflexes..."

A smirk came to his lips and his eyes narrowed just slightly, "and here  
I was thinking I was the stealthy one. What brings you to the big G," he  
queried as he finished tying up the purse snatcher's wrists to his ankles.

She followed his movements with her eyes, "oh just popped in town to see  
a friend for a bit. I heard the commotion and decided to come watch you  
in action."

"Another day in the life. Nothing exciting, as you can see. Though  
you did give me a bit of a fright," he spoke and heard sirens in the  
distance. "We'd better go ahead and get clear of the area. Want to catch  
a ride back with me? I know it's not as great as flying, but I figured  
maybe we could hang out a bit since you're in town," he said as he  
looked toward the ground, avoiding eye contact.

"Sure," she replied as he lead her toward another alley, "I have a bit  
of time before I need to be back. We could maybe grab some food?"

"Alright, here we are. I'm guessing you don't need a helmet?" He smirked  
again as he nodded toward his motorcycle.

"I somehow think I'll manage without one," she said with an innocent  
wink. She watched as he climbed on and motioned her to take the spot  
behind him. She wasn't really used to vehicles and it was a bit awkward  
for her, though she managed to get settled on the back of the bike.

The engine roared to life and vibrated under the two as Tim revved it  
before launching forward into the night.

Kara was more than able to keep balance just sitting straight up, but  
started considering all the movies she had seen with motorcycles and  
remembered something. She blushed at the thought, but managed to work up  
the nerve and wrapped her arms around Tim's midsection and leaned a bit  
forward. If nothing else, she thought, she could play it off as watching  
one too many old films.

Tim's eyes widened as he felt her arms fold around his torso since he  
knew as well as she did that there was no practical need for the  
physicality. It puzzled him, to say the least, but he wasn't going to  
argue. After all, he had always found her both attractive and intriguing.

"So, uh," he spoke after a moment, "what kind of food would you prefer?"

"I'm not too picky, though I do love Chinese and Italian," she shifted a  
bit closer, so he could hear her better. He could speak at a whisper and  
be alright, thanks to her enhanced hearing, but he didn't have the same  
luxury.

He thought for a second and replied, "I know a great Chinese place  
that's open late, we'll go there."

The motorcycle veered through the light evening traffic and he adjusted  
his course to get to Magic Wok, a Chinese restaurant in a less ran down  
part of the city.

-


End file.
